


with the sky all blue

by kenopsia (indie), ruthvsreality



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Basically being 4-way married, F/F, F/M, M/M, OT4, Poly, The 4th of July, You can actually imagine this is commune fic, are v v monog and gay and are always gently amused with all the love unfolding around them, but like, they facetime rolo just after this fic ends, who are with them in spirit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 18:18:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19481395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indie/pseuds/kenopsia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthvsreality/pseuds/ruthvsreality
Summary: It isn’t — new. Not by a long shot. Not when both of their wives had essentially entered their own marriages with each other’s love and devotion as a premarital asset, and Tommy and Favs had done their own fooling around, off and on, for years, when they’d been single. It had only taken them a year of the Black-Favreau’s being married to recognize that the love and joy between them was a living thing that pointed most directions.It’s not often, though, that they have the freedom to lean in and greet all of their loved ones in the empty, sprawling backyard of the Black’s summer home, sun and big sky above.





	with the sky all blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends pls come in and take your shoes off but like DAMN PLS BE GOOD while you're here and use your very best judgement, holy shit. Thank you Ruth for playing around with me. 
> 
> Title from the Dave Smallen song, With The Sky All Blue, which he wrote for Crayola but ultimately was considered "too dark" for the Crayola brand and he got it back.

_ Emily,  _ Tommy chides.  _ You both know Jon spends his whole flight on the brink of cardiac arrest.  _

_ So don’t show him,  _ Emily taps back.  _ Or do. ;) _

Jon, for his part, is gamely chugging along, feet hovering over the floor in a way that doesn’t seem sustainable to Tommy, but he always seems to manage it. He hadn’t even taken any meds. Tommy should have smoked him out before they’d left.

“Hey, Jon,” Tommy says, softly catching his attention. In a world where they weren’t inexplicably (and in a limited way) famous, he would be able to wrap his arm around Jon’s shoulder and tug him against his side. Instead, he presses their sides together, knee to hip, and tries to keep him distracted. 

Jon peers over Tommy’s shoulder. “Oh,” he says. His thumb comes up to touch his bottom lip; Tommy mirrors it unconsciously. “That’s something.” 

*

Four months of planning is about to culminate in what Tommy is hoping will be an unqualified success. Jon, off the plane, is regaining color and good humor. By the time Tommy has picked up his rental, he’s up to his usual level of effusive glowiness. Tommy deftly steers them out of the airport congestion while Favs sends messages to the group chat that they were on their way. 

Tommy’s pocket buzzes intermittently. He focuses on the road, let himself drift in his mind beside Jon, tilting his face into the crisp AC. 

“The girls say it’s going to be picnic time as soon as we get there.” Favs informs him. 

It feels good to hear them referred to like that.  _ The girls.  _ Safe and warm, waiting for them.

“They sent us fourteen lingerie shots and one of Hanna sucking on Emily’s fingers,” Tommy says, dry. “It is either going to be a very brief or a very sticky picnic.” 

“The picnic will be exactly as long as they think it should be,” Favs says, prim. 

He’s a piece of work. Tommy reaches out to give his knee a squeeze. His legs fall open slightly at Tommy’s touch, and Tommy pushes the envelope a little, stroking his fingertips from the inside of his knee to his upper thigh, right against his inseam. 

“Tommy,” Favs protests, without heat. “You’re driving.”

“This is true,” Tommy says, and after circling his fingertips on Jon’s inner thigh in a last lingering touch, he puts his hands on the steering wheel. 

“Tommy,” Favs says, this time in a very different tone. Tommy feels his mouth curl upward. July was new and bright and the sky was full of promise. He drives a little faster. 

*

There is lunch, and it looks lovely, but mostly he’s glad to be reunited. He leans in to kiss Hanna, pulling her into his arms as soon as they greet them at the car, while Jon does the same, leaning down to press against Emily, forehead to forehead. 

And then, after a moment of open-air hesitation and four way eye contact, Favs leans in to smack a quick kiss on the side of Hanna’s face, and Tommy loves him for making the first move. 

It isn’t — new. Not by a long shot. Not when both of their wives had essentially entered their own marriages with each other’s love and devotion as a premarital asset, and Tommy and Favs had done their own fooling around, off and on, for years, when they’d been single. It had only taken them a year of the Black-Favreau’s being married to recognize that the love and joy between them was a living thing that pointed most directions. 

It’s not often, though, that they have the freedom to lean in and greet all of their loved ones in the empty, sprawling backyard of the Black’s summer home, sun and big sky above. 

Emily tilts her face up expectantly and Tommy moves the rest of the way, kissing her soundly and pulling her in, his arm hoisting her up and against him, resting across the small of her back. 

“Oh wow,” Emily said, blushing. She’s in a lacy shirt, ruffled at the neck, with little eyelet holes and embroidered sunflowers. She has little yellow shorts on; Hanna had already sent him a picture of her underwear. 

“You both look gorgeous,” Tommy says. “A sight for sore eyes.”

“Thank you,” Hanna says, lighting up. She had been holding Emily’s hand, fingers intertwined, when they came out to the car to greet them. “We did get a two day head start on this vacation business, and we are remarkable well rested.” 

Favs grins. “You deserved it.” 

Tommy notices the lightest of marks, dusky mauve, high on Hanna’s neck, and accidentally pictures it — Emily and Hanna, curled up and touching. One of them was always wedging a thigh between someone else's, and they kissed noisily. When Emily had pulled away, it would have made a broken suction sound that could be heard in the next room. He has to redirect his attention before his dick bursts out of his pants and he has to apologize for its behavior. 

*

Tommy has been sitting on a picnic blanket with a perfect view for about five seconds before he becomes aware that Emily is not wearing a bra. 

She’s talking about she and Hanna’s morning bike-ride, running into an old friend of hers who does something interesting now, and gesturing with a fork, and Tommy’s pattern recognition says,  _ oh. _

His brain might have gone offline for a moment, leaving his eyes where he last directed them, because a moment or a minute passes and Emily is smiling at him sweetly. “Everything okay, Tommy?” 

Hanna pats Tommy’s hand, nodding sagely. “I am often distracted by the visage,” Hanna says. “Frequently I am also compelled to touch.”

Tommy turns to look at Hanna, shaking the half-formed fantasies from behind his eyes. “Sorry ladies,” he grins, ruefully. “We missed you this week and you both look. Just, really incredible. Sorry, I promise to be good now and try to enjoy this spread.” 

“Tommy,” Emily said. She was still grinning, as if the vacation had already remodeled her. Emily with the windows thrown open with fresh air in her head. “We don’t care about the spread.” She takes a sandwich from his hand and hands it to Hanna. Hanna hands the sandwich to Favs. Favs sets it down tactfully on the blanket. 

“Oh, thank God,” Favs says. 

“Does that — can we go back inside?” Tommy says. 

“Oh,” Hanna says. “But it’s so nice out here.” 

Emily looks at her, smiling and indulgent and part of Tommy wanted to leap between them, to catch that look like a bullet. Except, he doesn’t want to keep it from Hanna. He loves that it exists outside of him. “So nice,” she echoes.

Jon’s mouth jumps into a shocked expression. Almost cartoonishly so, and suddenly Tommy feels himself shift into gear. It’s some friendship override that only allowed one of them to be squamish at a time. As soon as Jon’s eyes go wide, something wild in Tommy calms. He grins at Favs. “We’re on vacation,” he says, conspiratorially. 

“Of course,” Jon says. “What’s a vacation without some potential exhibitionism.” 

Emily giggles, and Tommy immediately thinks about how he’s pretty sure they all knew that Favs is well-aware of what sort of picture he made. His camera roll is full of risque selfies. 

“Come on, Jon,” Hanna says, her voice rasping. She moves closer, slowly, as if she’s going to sneak into Jon’s lap unnoticed. “Remember how much fun we had at Coachella? And that was a constant near-miss vis-a-vis getting super busted by people that weren’t Ronan or Lovett.”

Tommy closes his eyes, briefly, like a Pavlovian reaction to the words. 

Favs gestures at his temple, where he has a few pale hairs. “These are the outcome of that.” 

“Very sexy,” Emily says. “Very distinguished. Hanna, can you give my husband one more, please?” 

Tommy’s heart is picking up speed. Hanna, lithe and lovely, brushes a thumb across Favs’ jawline. His eyes flutter closed and Tommy feels so tender about the both of them, full to bursting when she leans in to kiss his slack mouth.

“We do,” he mumbles, when she draws back just enough to put a word between them, “have a lot of privacy here.” 

“Yes,” she agrees, petting down his sides with her tiny hands. Her nails, like Emily’s, are cut short but painted a glossy navy blue. It’s eye catching. 

Emily and Tommy exchange a look. Tommy’s hand has somehow ended up touching the hem of her blouse. “Do you want something, Tommy?” she asks, playful. 

“No,” he says, smiling. “I was just looking for cleaning instructions.”

“You wash on delicate, and then hang it to dry,” Emily says. 

“Well, in that case,” Tommy says, and turns back to look at his wife and his best friend. She was more or less in his lap, now, and Jon’s eyes are closed. Tommy resists the urge to palm himself, but the humming noise Jon makes into Hanna’s mouth is whipping up his blood, regardless. 

“Tommy,” Emily says, a little needy, and who is Tommy to deny her anything? 

Her hands are gripping the hem of her shirt, and Tommy can read a room. “Let me,” he says. 

Tommy peels it up, exposing her tanned stomach. She leans, moves with him, lifts her hands so he can pull it off over her head, and there's nothing. Just him and miles of Emily's torso, right down to her white shorts. He leans down, hovers millimeters from her grinning, expectant mouth before bypassing it, nosing down her neck to land at the swell of her breast. She huffs a surprise laugh as his invisible stubble scrapes the side of her breast.

She arches, as if he doesn't already have full, perfect, access.

Favs is palming himself just looking at them, and Tommy takes a single hardening nipple so delicately between his teeth, not putting any pressure there or closing his mouth around it.

“Wowza,” Hanna says. It is, objectively, a goofy thing to say. She’s perfect. 

“The man does not fuck around,” he can hear Favs saying. 

Hanna laughs at him. “I’m pretty familiar,” she says. 

"Tommy," Emily says. He looks up at her, feeling very amused and shooting her a  _ my mouth is kind of busy here _ , look.

Emily squirms. “C’mon, Tom. You didn’t get all the way here just to tease, did you?”

Tommy considers this and wraps his mouth around her nipple, licking obediently. Emily lets out a low raspy hum in satisfaction. An Emily making noise is insanely motivating. 

Tommy sucks and can hear her drawing in a quick, sharp breath. She touches his hair, his back, hand spasming between his shoulder blades when he gives her a brief nibble, lining his teeth up, nothing like the way he'd held her earlier between his top and bottom teeth. She lets out a little  _ ah  _ and he focuses on keeping his touch just the right side of pleasure-pain. Tommy puts a forearm across her stomach, pinning her against the blanket with his weight as her hips arch towards — anything. 

“Gorgeous,” Hanna coos, and Tommy cuts his eyes to look at her. She’s pretty much in Jon’s lap, legs akimbo. His hands are on Hanna’s hips and they both seem to be watching the show. 

Favs’ smile is so bright and happy when Hanna says that. Tommy doesn’t even know who he’s proud of here. He’s so in love, they all are, it’s intoxicating being tangled up with them, braided and inextricable.

The next time Tommy feels Emily flex beneath his hold, hips seeking, he brings the palm of his hand down to the front of her shorts. She makes a little  _ ah.  _

“Okay,” she hears Hanna say. “Do you mind if I, like — ” and then she’s down by Emily, just planting herself right beside her and Tommy wonders for a moment if she wants something from him, but then she and Emily are kissing, warm and wet. It looks like they might be at the wrong angle for it to be comfortable, Tommy eases up off of Emily in case she needs to move to adjust their kiss, but their necks still look a little strained. They’ve probably endured worse to kiss each other, Tommy suspects. 

Eventually Hanna moves back up to settle in Favs’ lap again, in between his legs. She guides his hands to her hips and he grips her immediately, pulling her against him.

“Tommy’s  _ definitely  _ a tits man, in general,” Hanna confides. Tommy isn’t sure how he feels — how he’s supposed to feel — with Hanna narrating for him. “But Emily’s tits are to die for.”

He can hear Favs agree with her, and keeps talking, probably about the highlights of Hanna’s body, of which there are many. Tommy kind of loses the plot for a bit, scraping his invisible stubble across Emily’s chest, rising and falling fast with her breathing. 

“Tommy,” Emily whispers, “take your time.”

Emily seems almost drunk with pleasure. She gropes herself, one hand on her breast, the other in Tommy’s blond curls, flexing when he gets it right. He gets it right a lot. 

His cock is fat and thick against her thigh, but it’s almost irrelevant behind the electrified movements of her body, beneath him, against him, and in his mouth. “She gets so wet like that,” Favs tells him. 

Tommy hums happily. “Can’t wait to see — actually,” he glances up at Jon and grin. “I’ll wait, do you want to fuck her? I know we’ve been — ”

“Oh no.” Jon squeezes Hanna, who giggles. “I’ve got plans of my own.”

It’s only then that Tommy sees Hanna’s panties sliding down her thighs.

Tommy turns back to Emily with a smile and decides to really go for gold, sucking and smacking kisses, heavy suction before pulling back to blow air across a wet nipple, going back and forth, sucking until she’s squirming and mewling. What’s a good foursome if you’re not giving your wife a show? 

Hanna seems to like it, from the way she’s talking to Favs. Tommy can’t quite hear what she’s saying, but he’s sure it’s good. 

“Could you... not now, I - oh, fuck, yeah, I like when you suck like that - could you finger me?” Emily looks down at him shyly. “I like your fingers.”

Tommy pulls back and admires his handiwork. Emily’s nipples are pointed, but not achingly so. They look lovely and pink and dark, swollen from attention. They might be sore tomorrow. Good.

“This is obscene,” he comments. “Um. You don’t want me to fuck you?” He’s a little out of it.

“I thought... you could try fucking my tits?” Emily asks. A breeze goes by. She shifts and Tommy watches the motion of her breasts.

“Y-Yeah.” He looks up at Hanna. “Oh, you - you -“ Tommy isn’t going to pretend he hasn’t fantasized about that before.

“Yeah I did.” She grins wickedly. “Now hush, I want to lie next to Emily while Jon fucks me.”

Jon sputters. “No foreplay?”

Hanna exudes smugness. “Your wife took care of that earlier. Been thinking about this all day.”

Jon shrugs and gives her breasts a good little squeeze, then lets her shuffle over to lie beside Emily.

They exchange wife-to-wife grins.

Emily tips her head back to let out a golden peal of delighted laughter at the entire situation. Emily with her gorgeous, roughhoused tits out, Hanna in a bra but no panties, Favs making his way out of his shorts — Tommy could die happy.

He waits for Favs to get his dick out, wants to be able to watch rapt as he moves so tentatively into Hanna’s eager, squishy body, as if she might have been wrong about what she wants.

He watches, hungry and satisfied at the same time by the view. Hanna keeps making these cute little noises, squirming, trying to get Jon inside before he’s fully pushing into her. Once he’s in all the way, Hanna rocks up and gasps out, “perfect,” hooking an ankle around the small of his back.

Tommy licks two of his fingers in preparation and looks at Emily.

“This is going to sound stupid and like, straight guy -“

Jon scoffs, barely heard over Hanna’s breathy moan as he pulls out and thrusts back in, careful and slow.

“- But could you kiss my wife, again, please?”

Emily can absolutely do that. Lives for doing that, Tommy knows. Sat on her lap doing that for an hour yesterday, probably. They meet halfway. Every time they pull away, the sound between then goes straight to Tommy’s dick and heart and belly.

Tommy is struck by the thought that he is absolutely going to go down on Hanna while they make out tomorrow. It might as well be chiseled into stone.

Tommy brushes his fingertips down against the wet heat of her, circling gently outside while his other hand scratches carefully down her side, just the subtlest catch of his nails.

“Come on, Tommy,” she breathes.

Tommy comes on, moving his fingers inside of her. She’s plush, inside. Decadent. It’s bright outside and his life is absurd.

Hanna’s cute little feet are pressing against the small of his back and he makes good on the leverage by giving her long, satisfying thrusts. Tommy glances over and admires how Hanna grips him.

Hanna giggles. “Your husband’s really hot.”

“I know.” Emily says.

Tommy wants to impress everyone too, so he slides two fingers inside Emily and immediately begins searching for her g-spot.

“You trimmed for him,” Jon comments. Emily looks like she’s about to shrug but a particularly pleasurable movement of Tommy’s fingers prevents her from doing so.

He leans down to get back to her perfect chest, two hard sucks in tandem with his fingers circling inside, thumping against the spongy give of her g-spot as the base of his palm crushes against her clit from the outside with a flat, gripping pressure.

The multi-focal pressure surprises a noise of her like a squeaky toy. “Ohmygod,” Emily says, one word.

Hanna told Tommy once that smug is a good look on him. Tommy hopes that’s still true, because goddamn is he smug right now. 

Favs  _ might  _ be feeling a lot of love, but there’s some healthy competition in his eyes.

Favs rocks into Hanna with a sloppy, deep motion, just the way Tommy knows they both like it. With Emily it’s all precision - he gets that, her g-spot’s sensitive. But Hanna likes to get off by riding Tommy like a porn star, all legs and long motions, and he gets that, too.

Emily squeaks in happiness. Tommy makes a pleased noise around her nipple. “Babe, this is  _ so _ fucking fun.” Emily sighs.

“I agree.” Hanna grins.

After that it’s quiet for a while, the breeze fluttering the leaves around them. An honest to god butterfly flies by and throws Jon off his pace; they all pause to admire it.

“Alright, Tommy, stop messing around and make me c-come -  _ oh _ !” Emily shudders, her breath getting heavier. 

Favs grins down at Hanna. “Think we can beat ‘em?”

Tommy’s been carefully stroking both sides of Emily’s g-spot, being careful, nipping down her torso, scraping down her ribcage with his teeth, setting the warm suction of his mouth against the hollow of her hipbone, long fluttering strokes with his wide fingers, coming almost all the way out before he swoops back in.

Now that competition is no longer implicit but ratified, he presses his other hand flat against her, low on her stomach, to catch her from  _ both sides _ . Emily’s knee jerks up reflexively.

“Sorry,” she huffs, but Tommy had been expecting it and it did not whack him in the temple.

He sucks a bruise on the inside of that thigh, low, near her knee.

Meanwhile Favs is rocking, touching, tweaking. He’s sweaty and glorious and he and Hanna keep catching Tommy’s eye, the visual of what they’ve got going on feeding into the ouroboros of his own lust and what’s happening with Emily.

“She’s so fucking wet,” Favs says to Tommy, about Tommy’s own wife. (God, Tommy is so fucking hashtag blessed.) “She’s sopping. I can see her all over my cock, dude.”

Tommy looks over. Competition or no, he has honed years of Get Hanna Off instincts, and he can tell she’s one good hair-yank away from unravelling right beneath Favs. He feels it like his own pleasure. Just as he’s about to reach out to lend a hand, Emily beats him to it.

Hanna laughs, shudders, and moans, long and loud. Emily mirrors her with a little whimper, rubbing her clit in quick little circles.

Jon leans down and gently moves Hanna’s hand away from her clit, matching her pace in long, sweet up-and-down motions. Hanna moans, low and raspy. It’s delicious and Tommy’s having trouble moving his gaze between all three of them.

“Em, Em, Em,” Hanna gasps, “look at me; I want to see you when Tommy makes you come -“

Emily shrieks in delight, her eyes screwing shut as she comes. Tommy works her  _ well, _ so well that he can hear slick, wet noises as he curls his fingers and rubs her pussy from the inside, getting her sensitive to the point where honestly, she  _ will _ get them caught if she doesn’t put a hand over her mouth.

Hanna looks at Emily, and looks at Jon, and then looks over at Tommy, and Tommy winks at her, because he can. There’s a bit of a breeze. 

Jon shifts, looks over at Hanna, and goes to work. It doesn’t take long before his long fingers, his cock, and his stupid goofy smile is more than enough for Hanna. 

“Coming, coming, coming - !” Hanna whispers, as if she’s not doing exactly that, and it’s some sort of warning. Hanna doesn’t come like Emily does - it’s more in waves, rather than all at once. It’s equally pretty, and Tommy admires it with his forehead resting on Emily’s tummy.

Jon just fucks her right through it, and then at the last moment decides not to ruin her dress and pulls out, coming on the grass. Some of it gets on her thigh. Tommy doesn’t think she’ll mind.

“What do you think,” Jon gasps, “a tie, Tom?”

“I, for one,” Tommy says, leaning up to kiss Emily’s sweet, flushed face from the crest of her cheekbone to her slack, pink mouth, “am happy to call it a draw and go best two out of three.”

Emily tilts her face, accepting his kisses limply while she catches her breath, her knuckles pressing against her clit with a broad pressure against the flexing aftershocks. “You’re still,” she says, regaining coherency in the swirling post orgasm lushness. “I still want you to —“ she glances down.

Tommy’s dick could hammer nails.

“Ooh, someone’s excited.” Jon grins lazily. He’s shifted up to cuddle Hanna, reaching over to grope at her breast, idly pinching her nipple.

“Fuck you.” Tommy says with a grin. He slips his tongue into Jon’s wife’s mouth.

“Later, you’ll have to give me a bit.” Jon replies. It’s one of their favorite jokes.

Tommy moves over to straddle Emily’s chest while she leans up on her elbows. He’s careful not to crush her.

“Good?” He asks. He and Hanna — they don’t really do this. Haven’t figure out a way where she doesn’t feel uncomfortable for her, and Tommy is waiting carefully in case Emily feels the same. 

He’s relieved when instead, she says, “You are  _ so _ hard,” sounding gratifyingly impressed.

Tommy chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Emily grins and pushes her tits together, wiggling a little. She shifts up so he can rest his cock between them, her soft skin brushing against him.

Emily looks positively debauched — hair askew, damp shoulders, chest, stomach. Tommy settles his weight onto his legs and slides his hips forward in one smooth, testing motion.

“Feels nice.” Emily coos. “This is going to sound weird - you’re soft, and it feels good.”

Tommy laughs, a little huff of breath. “Oooh, god. Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ -“

He picks up the pace, still slow, but finding a rhythm. Emily sticks out her tongue cheekily. Tommy moans a little. Emily is sated but spirited beneath him, and he is intoxicated by the drag and pull, her eyes big and watching him, the warm summer air on his chest and the past two days of anticipation, knowing that — not this, particularly, but  _ something —  _ would happen. Tommy was not meant to last long.

“Isn’t she great?” Jon says. Hanna is idly sliding her fingers through her own wetness, not seeking much more than feeling how swollen her clit is.

“Love your tits,” Tommy rasps, in obvious agreement, “love your tits, love you -“

He gasps and pulls away a little bit, but it’s too late. Hot spurts of come splash onto Emily’s tits, a fair bit getting onto her face.

Hanna bursts into giggles, while Emily smiles, wrinkling her nose.

“Wow.” Jon says. “That was hotter than I thought it would be.”

Emily squirms. “I agree. Tommy, could you hand me a napkin?” 

Tommy is still pretty flushed from exertion but he manages to lean over and grab a napkin from the basket. “Sorry about hitting your face, there.”    
  
“I expect your pornhub career to take off shortly.” Emily quips. “Babe, hand me my tea?”    
  
Jon stops groping Hanna and sits up, reaching over for her glass of iced tea. Emily takes a long sip and smiles languidly before resting the glass against her face.    
  
“So… can we have all of our meals outside?” Tommy asks, after a moment. Jon’s braying laugh fills the air, and the girls lean against each other, fond and indulgent while they gather their clothes, flushed with daring and with success. 

“Thomas.” Emily says. “There are good beds inside. Nice, soft beds where no one has to worry about putting an elbow in a sandwich or fire ants.”

Hanna cuts her eyes at him and then back to Emily. “If I may make a recommendation here,” she says. 

“Always,” Emily says, ceding the floor with a tilt of her head. 

“You can avoid most elbow-sandwiches and ants by putting the husband on the picnic blanket and climbing  _ atop  _ the husband.”

“You’re beautiful and brilliant, and I wholeheartedly support you putting whichever husband you like down.” Emily says. The holiday is young, the sky is gorgeous, and she has $642 worth of fireworks that she drove out of state for. “But I will be taking the remainder of my orgasms indoors.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

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